Little Brownie Girl.

I grieved her loss in phases. The grief came in waves and only now has it settled. Settled enough for me to be able to write about it. It has been three months since we lost her, our darling streetie girl, Brownie. Somehow, I found it rather hard to make peace with her loss. Perhaps because she was with us, yet on her own. Because we weren’t aware of what brought about the fatal accident that would eventually take her life, while under our care. Because we were left helpless after trying over and over again, to save her precious life. I was so numb the day she left, that even tears wouldn’t form in my eyes. By the time they gushed down, she was in doggie heaven, presumably chasing away other dogs, because that’s what she’d do – so her best friends Yogi & Angel could walk away, with the road to themselves.

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Over the years, I have grieved for the beautiful doggie souls that have touched my life and left almost as soon as they had come ( as it seemed to me) and what struck me most with Brownie’s leaving was how differently grief manifests with each loss, how it shows up in the most uncertain of places and how it changes you fundamentally by reinforcing that truth that death is not permanent. It takes that course of grief to know that it is not. And each time, that is what life is trying to reiterate through grief. But it’s not that easy, is it? It never can be.

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But that is the truth and so my darling girl is living with us now. I still feel her gentle licks, hear her silly i-love-you howls, and I can see through her crystal clear, bright brown eyes. The doe eyes that had captured R’s heart, the day he met Brownie girl on the street and led her home, two years back, which was the beginning of this precious bond with our favourite streetie. She came home almost every evening from then on, after her daily meanderings about the area. Almost. Until she went missing for a few weeks last year, and resurfaced with injuries that would eventually take away her little mortal doggie body.

Her soul is here, however. With me, as I write this at last, and therefore setting me free.

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“God’s finger touched him, and he slept.” ~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Sleep well my sweet child. For there is so much play ahead of you.

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